Half an hour ago.
Creighton was sipping his tea, accompanied by the sound of classical music, in a glasshouse decorated to resemble a private garden when he sensed someone's presence.
His brows immediately furrowed, because a disturbance at this hour only meant that there was something important that needed his attention. Otherwise, no one would dare disturb his tea time.
The older he got, the more particular this old man became about his rest. He demanded peace and forbade interruptions, especially during his meditation, morning exercise, and tea times.
Clicking his tongue in mild annoyance, the old man asked sharply, "There better be a good reason why you couldn't wait until I finished my afternoon tea."
Instead of being offended, Head Butler Roman chuckled softly at his former master. The old man hadn't changed, Roman thought.
